“Miguel?” Edlawit called my name again.
I looked at Edlawit . Her eyes filled with tears. She cried a lot as a teenager; I hardly saw her cry as a girl and only when someone else’s feelings were hurt and she felt sorry.
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t’ve stopped her,” I said.
“But, still,” Edlawit choked.
“Have you seen anything, Edlawit? Has she let you in at all?”
“No, Miguel. But I’m new at this -”
Edlawit was still so unsure about her gifts.
“Do you smell that, Miguel?” she asked.
“What?”
“It smells like mud . . . like. . . a pig stye.”
“Give me your hands,” I said. “And close your eyes.”
“Miguel?”
“Look,” I said. “Just relax and look. I’ll be right here looking with you.”
Holding onto Edlawit’s hand, I would be able to see whatever Arous showed her without Arous sensing me. It was a bit of trickery but it worked.
Flies. Mud. Fume.
Arous was in a filthy barn. It was cold and wet. I could hear dripping water.
“That’s the smell,” said Edlawit.
“Shhh,” I said. “Just watch for now.”
“Girl. Girl!” The door of the barn banged open and light flooded the stall where Arous had spent the night before with a herd of cows. Arous scrambled to her feet almost falling out of the stall.
A man, Mr. Skinny Burton grinned at her with dark eyes that sunk into his puffy face. He was familiar to her. He had a greedy grin that seemed to cover his entire face.
He dropped a couple of buckets at her feet. She grabbed the two buckets that held the slop from the morning’s breakfast as well and lunch and supper from the day before. They were heavy and as she struggled to carry them from the barn to the sty, the juices sloshing over the tops of the buckets onto her clothes and bare feet. The hunger rolling in her belly began to overtake her. She set them down and looked into the buckets. On the top of one bucket she saw a piece of bread floating. She reached in and grabbed it without thinking. She reached her left hand into the other bucket hoping to improve her luck. There she grabbed a piece of stake almost as big as her shrunken palm. She ate.
“Girl!” Burton yelled from behind her. “Feed them pigs!”
She poured a bucket into the trough. It splashed all over the grunting pigs. For the moment, cold food parts satisfied Arous’ stomach.
She snuck a glance over her shoulder. Burton was gone.
She stepped up onto the bottom rung of the wooden fence boosting herself up. She leaned over the railing resting there a minute. She blinked as the dozen or so hogs pushed, shoved and oinked their way for prime pieces of slop. She’d only seen such large pigs once before.
Her mind dove deep into memory.
“ Edlawit . . . Edwi. . . ”
“I’m here, Arous. I’m right here!” But Arous couldn’t hear her. “Come home, Arous!”
“Oh, Daddy, what have I done?” she began to cry. “Can I ever come home?”
I looked at Edlawit . Her eyes filled with tears. She cried a lot as a teenager; I hardly saw her cry as a girl and only when someone else’s feelings were hurt and she felt sorry.
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t’ve stopped her,” I said.
“But, still,” Edlawit choked.
“Have you seen anything, Edlawit? Has she let you in at all?”
“No, Miguel. But I’m new at this -”
Edlawit was still so unsure about her gifts.
“Do you smell that, Miguel?” she asked.
“What?”
“It smells like mud . . . like. . . a pig stye.”
“Give me your hands,” I said. “And close your eyes.”
“Miguel?”
“Look,” I said. “Just relax and look. I’ll be right here looking with you.”
Holding onto Edlawit’s hand, I would be able to see whatever Arous showed her without Arous sensing me. It was a bit of trickery but it worked.
Flies. Mud. Fume.
Arous was in a filthy barn. It was cold and wet. I could hear dripping water.
“That’s the smell,” said Edlawit.
“Shhh,” I said. “Just watch for now.”
“Girl. Girl!” The door of the barn banged open and light flooded the stall where Arous had spent the night before with a herd of cows. Arous scrambled to her feet almost falling out of the stall.
A man, Mr. Skinny Burton grinned at her with dark eyes that sunk into his puffy face. He was familiar to her. He had a greedy grin that seemed to cover his entire face.
He dropped a couple of buckets at her feet. She grabbed the two buckets that held the slop from the morning’s breakfast as well and lunch and supper from the day before. They were heavy and as she struggled to carry them from the barn to the sty, the juices sloshing over the tops of the buckets onto her clothes and bare feet. The hunger rolling in her belly began to overtake her. She set them down and looked into the buckets. On the top of one bucket she saw a piece of bread floating. She reached in and grabbed it without thinking. She reached her left hand into the other bucket hoping to improve her luck. There she grabbed a piece of stake almost as big as her shrunken palm. She ate.
“Girl!” Burton yelled from behind her. “Feed them pigs!”
She poured a bucket into the trough. It splashed all over the grunting pigs. For the moment, cold food parts satisfied Arous’ stomach.
She snuck a glance over her shoulder. Burton was gone.
She stepped up onto the bottom rung of the wooden fence boosting herself up. She leaned over the railing resting there a minute. She blinked as the dozen or so hogs pushed, shoved and oinked their way for prime pieces of slop. She’d only seen such large pigs once before.
Her mind dove deep into memory.
“ Edlawit . . . Edwi. . . ”
“I’m here, Arous. I’m right here!” But Arous couldn’t hear her. “Come home, Arous!”
“Oh, Daddy, what have I done?” she began to cry. “Can I ever come home?”
